


shine with all the untold

by lanyon



Category: Captain America (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Canon amnesia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Natasha are two sides of the same coin; of Bucky’s coin. They are his currency and they are his debt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shine with all the untold

**Author's Note:**

> + **Spoilers** for Winter Soldier, Avengers and **warnings** for canon mindwipe and canon manpain.  
>  +Title from Vienna Teng's _Shine_

He is filled with righteous indignation. It blinds him and this is the blind leading the blind in a world where Fury is king. It is a world in which Fury is judge, jury and executioner but not even he knows what was done to Steve. 

Bucky’s fist clenches and it is easy to imagine the ghost of bones, long since crumbled to dust, grinding together in rage. 

.

It’s just that Steve Rogers is his hero. 

.

Sam tries to talk Bucky down. Bucky has notepads filled with treason for how he will deal with each of the Illuminati. They’re spread over the coffee table, between half-empty mugs and watermarks and the dying sunflowers that Sharon left about four weeks ago, except they were alive then.

“Thanks for telling me you were alive, buddy,” says Sam. 

Bucky looks up at him briefly. “Easy come, easy go-”

“ _No_ , Bucky. No. You don’t get to pull that blasé-as-shit shit with me,” says Sam. 

It’s not like Sam. It’s so unlike him that Bucky looks up for longer. His gaze wavers. His chin itches from the stubble that he hasn’t shaved because he thinks it’s grief. Sackcloth and ashes and _out, out, brief candle_. 

“You’re back. You’re alive. You’re not Fury’s lapdog and you’re sure as shit not a murderer-”

“What they did to Steve-”

“Is unforgiveable,” says Sam. He pauses. “How’s Natasha?”

.

It’s just that Natalia Romanova might be the fucking love of his life but he doesn’t deserve her.

.

Steve’s smile is still the same. The shadows in his eye are still the same, flickering behind blues and greys and unplumbed depths. In the company of the Illuminati, he is outgunned; he is not genius or conjurer or king. 

Steve, well. Steve is just a soldier and his smile is still the same; lopsided and pure; and his smile is still the same and it makes Bucky ache for what Steve does not know and he does not know his enemy. He smiles with Stark and Strange and Richards and there is no guilt; not that Bucky can see through the sights of a high power rifle.

. 

Steve and Natasha are two sides of the same coin; of Bucky’s coin. They are his currency and they are his debt.

.

Bucky knows about memory and he knows his worth. Natasha is blissful in the ignorance of his absence, or presence, in her life. Steve, with his smile, just the same, looks a little confused sometimes, when he walks into a room and he’s forgotten why he’s there. He walks to a bookcase and drags his fingers over broken book-spines or he walks to a window and looks at the drizzle clinging to the glass, brief like half-formed thoughts. 

Bucky knows about memory because he carries them all; he carries his memories and those of the Winter Soldier; he carries Natasha’s memories, like a shrine with a single burning light, and he carries Steve’s memories, and it is the will-o’-the-wisp and he seeks him here and he seeks him there (and _out, out, brief candle_ ).

.

Steve and Natasha walk into a bar. They do their job. There is no punchline.

.

“How is the good Captain?” asks Namor. 

“Saving the world,” says Bucky. His toes curl into the pebbles on the shoreline and some of them are sharp, not yet carved smooth by the relentless sea, and they dig into his skin. 

“Then why is the weight of the world on your shoulders, Barnes?” Namor puts his hand out and plucks something from the collar of Bucky’s coat and it is a single, long, red hair. 

Bucky says nothing.

“Do you remember that dreadful safehouse in the Dordogne?” asks Namor. 

Of course Bucky remembers. They, somehow, ended up there with alarming regularity. All of them, even Namor, bled on the couch. He remembers Gretchen and her quiet, sweet kisses and bravery that eclipsed them all. He remembers the battered copy of _Macbeth_ and Jim threatening school and laughter like gunfire.

He wonders if Steve will save the world this time.

.

She still moves like a ballerina.

.

Sharon is at least as angry. It is some consolation and they sit on the couch and she demands to know if Bucky has seen Natasha. 

“She’s better off without-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that fucking sentence, Barnes,” says Sharon and Bucky wonders if she’s Steve’s light; his shrine and his will-o’-the-wisp and the light at the end of his tunnel, incendiary and consuming. She holds up one finger. “Women are always better off without men.” She holds up a second finger. “But that mostly means we’re better off without your goddamned self-pity.” 

“That’s a burn,” says Sam and he is smiling and solid and _right_ He might be the only thing that is still right in this world. 

“What can we do for them?” asks Bucky and his voice is plaintive. 

“Well, we can start by not killing the only people who might be able to fix it,” says Sharon, firmly.

Bucky wants to whine that it’s not fair because killing’s all he knows.

“Don’t look like that,” says Sharon. “No killing.” She smiles though, wicked and sharp like pebbles on the shoreline. “But we can wish that their balls drop off. One by one and _painfully_.”

Both Bucky and Sam cross their legs.

.

Steve kisses Sharon and his fingers tangle in her hair and he knows her and she knows him and Bucky is a little jealous.

.

Bucky’s not a coward; not when it comes to getting blood under his fingernails and spitting fire and fighting the good fight. Bucky takes direction well. Bucky feels like a teenaged boy except he was never that kind of teenager. He wipes his hands on his jeans and walks into the bar. 

“Do I know you?” Natasha asks. 

This is what Bucky knows: Natasha is aware that there are holes in her memory and she holds herself like a statue; like she is anything but vulnerable. 

“Yes,” says Bucky. “Better’n most people.”

“We’ve only just met,” says Natasha and she is smiling and it’s her polite smile and it’s the one that means that she does not trust him, not yet.

“Then I got plenty of time to prove I’m right,” says Bucky. “Buy you a drink?”

.

The answer - Sharon’s answer - is this. No killing. (At least, not yet, and _promises, promises_.) It’s Sharon's hand in Steve’s when he walks into a room and looks confused and it’s Natasha’s faintly amused smile when Bucky catches her eye and she is waiting for the punchline.


End file.
